


Rock You Like A Hurricane

by NoirSongbird



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Horny Old Man Jack, Monster Truck Dates, Older Amelie AU, Post-Recall, background MeiGabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Jack Morrison has never been alone on Valentine's Day, but after the Overwatch Recall, he's having a little trouble getting a date.That is, until Amélie Lacroix, 51 andgorgeous,walks back into his life. He'sdeterminedto have her back - and he'll go to some crazy lengths to do it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello~ Here's another commissioned Widow76 work by the same very lovely anon <3 Please enjoy!

“You look grumpy, Morrison.” Gabriel said dryly, taking a seat next to him at the mess table. “It’s so much like your normal face, these days, though, I could be wrong.”

“Thanks,” Jack grumbled, “you’re great.”

“But seriously,” Gabriel said, setting up his tablet next to a cup of coffee - doing a check of the news, Jack guessed, to suggest places they should be paying attention to. Gabriel had fallen right back into his intelligence-gathering role with the Recall - after Overwatch collapsed in on itself under pressure from inside and out he’d supposedly retired, but apparently you could take the black ops soldier out of the black ops organization, but you couldn’t take his black ops training away from him. Gabriel had managed to successfully infiltrate Talon - so when the Recall went out, he showed up in full Reaper kit with about eight flash drives containing a huge number of Talon’s sensitive files. “What  _ are  _ you so damn pissed about.”

“Valentine's Day is in two weeks,” Jack said, “and I’m in urgent need of, in the most respectful, complimentary way possible, a thick bitch.” Jack Morrison had not spent a Valentine’s Day alone since he was….fourteen, or so; he’d always had a date of  _ some kind,  _ even if it was just a casual fling. It wasn’t exactly an exciting prospect to imagine spending a Valentine’s Day alone. 

“You know what,” Gabriel said, without looking up from his tablet, “I will actually pay you to try that line on any of the women here, Jack, as long as you do it where I can see it and witness the results.”

“Har har,” Jack said, “I’m glad you’re still a comedian after all these years.”

“One of us had to keep his sense of humor,” Gabriel shot back. He took a sip of coffee, then actually looked up, regarding Jack briefly. “Oh, that’s interesting. Looks like your ex is showing up.”

“My what,” Jack looked up, frowning. He had a number of exes, if he was being honest - as Strike-Commander he’d had a lot of room to be a ladies’ man. It was amazing how many women were very, very into the idea of sleeping with the Strike-Commander of Overwatch, and he’d been all too happy to indulge them.

Then again, how many of those actually counted as “exes” when most of them were one-night stands...well. That was an entirely different question. Besides, Gabriel wouldn’t have any particular reason to  _ know  _ any of them, really, and there was even less reason for them to be coming to  _ Overwatch.  _ Jack had tried to avoid fucking his subordinates; it made the chain of command terribly awkward and raised all kinds of questions that he really didn’t want to bother with, even if Overwatch had been full of absolutely  _ gorgeous _ women _.  _

“Your  _ ex. _ Also Gérard’s ex.” Gabriel gave him a broad, knowing grin. “Maybe she’s the - what was it? Ah, right.  _ Thick bitch  _ you’re looking for.”

“ _ Amélie? _ ” Jack asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.  _ That,  _ if he was being honest, was a very, very  _ memorable  _ ex. She was also one of his few violations of the “no one in Overwatch” rule, which he’d defended to himself at the time because technically she was in  _ Blackwatch,  _ and therefore  _ Gabriel’s  _ subordinate, not his. No messy chain of command problems if she wasn’t even really under his command, right? “I had no idea she was planning on coming back.”

“She is,” Gabriel said. “Check your comm, you should have a message from Winston. He wants us there for her reassignment debrief.”

“Is Gerard going to be joining us?” Jack asked. God, he hoped not. He’d never been fond of that weaselly bastard.

Because he was a weaselly bastard, of course, not for any other reason at all.

“Don’t think so,” Gabriel said, giving Jack a blatantly knowing look. “All my info says he’s got some cozy position with a private security company he won’t give up for  _ anything.  _ Certainly not for an Overwatch recall.”

“Good,” Jack said. It would be better not to have Gerard around, all things considered; far too many awkward issues that would just get dug back up. Better that he stayed as far away as possible. Better, in Jack’s opinion, if Jack never saw him again. “Well, alright. Let’s see what’s going on.”

 

* * *

Jack didn’t know what he was expecting out of Amélie Lacroix at fifty-one, but the woman that was waiting when Winston called them all into the briefing room sure as hell wasn’t it. 

Back in the day, she’d been married to Overwatch’s counter-terrorism chief, Gerard Lacroix, and from everything Jack heard it had be a whirlwind romance that ended in a hurricane of a divorce a few years after they both started working for Overwatch. It had been bitter and contentious, and there had been accusations of affairs in both directions, and the two of them had been permanently assigned as far from each other as possible to keep things from getting heated all over again.

She’d been one of Blackwatch and Overwatch’s best spies, when she worked for them, brilliant at infiltrating society parties and extracting information no one else could get. She had an eye for getting to the most vulnerable people in an organization - the ones who would be happy to talk after a few glasses of wine and a few sweet words - and getting them to spill every secret they had and some they didn’t even realize they knew. It was like watching an artist at work, Jack had observed, the few times he’d had the pleasure of watching her in the field. 

Sometimes, she was also one of the finest snipers and infiltration experts in the world, when they needed those particular skills. She’d done a lot of work with Blackwatch, which had caused a hell of a lot of problems with Gerard, who wasn’t even fond of Blackwatch’s  _ existence,  _ never mind fond of the idea of his wife working for them. Towards the end of their marriage Jack suspected Amélie took more and more Blackwatch jobs solely because it made Gerard so damn angry, and he knew Gabriel had been all too happy to let her, because Overwatch had Ana Amari and her eagle eyes, and Blackwatch had Amélie Lacroix and her unfailing aim and cold, calculating willingness to do whatever it took to get the job done.

In Jack’s opinion, Amélie had turned out to be a far better asset for Overwatch in just about every way than her husband, but Jack’s opinion was probably at least somewhat biased. Still, she’d done good work, and Gerard had let the Talon problem grow so wildly out of control they’d nearly been able to take down Watchpoint: Zurich right before Overwatch was dismantled for good, so Jack felt he had a pretty good evaluation of the situation, on the whole.

Jack had at best thought of her as a very good intelligence asset for Blackwatch until the day she’d turned up in his office to present a mission report in person, a few months after her divorce, still dressed in the catsuit she’d worn on the operation - the one, he learned, she wore on  _ most  _ of her infiltration and assassination missions -  and they’d ended up fucking on his desk like horny teenagers because he couldn’t keep his hands off her and she’d been all too eager to get  _ hers  _ on  _ him _ . 

After that, he’d chased her with the enthusiasm any man would chase a woman like her, and she’d loved it. It had been a game of backroom trysts and hurried encounters, never really anything of serious substance, but it had been  _ fun,  _ and even well into his forties she’d kept him feeling young. It was a good arrangement, and Jack wished it had lasted longer.

Things had ended between them with Overwatch’s fall, because they’d had to go in entirely different directions, but no one he’d been with since, during his time as a vigilante between the fall and the Recall, had ever _ quite  _ measured up to Amélie.

Seeing her now, for the first time since then, all he could do was  _ stare,  _ and wonder how he‘d ever let her go. She’d gained some weight since he’d last seen her, but only in a way that made her look  _ better -  _ filling out in all the right places, like some kind of voluptuous, curvaceous love goddess. In her little black dress and heels, she looked like a walking wet dream. The word  _ MILF  _ jumped to mind, which seemed damn inappropriate for the situation but also damned accurate for the woman standing there.

She spotted Jack, and gave him a coy grin and a wink, and all he could think about all of a sudden was exactly how much he wanted to get his hands all over every inch of her. Back in the day he’d known exactly how to press her buttons and exactly how to take her apart, and God he wanted to find out how much of that still worked and how much here was to relearn.

Jack must have stared for a damn long time while he contemplated every single filthy thing he wanted to do to her, because Gabriel elbowed him in the side.

“Have your fantasies later, we’ve got shit to do now,” he said, firmly, with the kind of exasperation that could only have come from...well, from knowing Jack for closing in on thirty years. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said distractedly, but he found a seat at the table and did his level best  _ not  _ to make it too obvious that all he wanted was to grab Amélie and drag her somewhere private to get viscerally reacquainted.

He sat through the meeting, of course he did. He even sort of listened as Amélie described what she had been up to over the years - keeping up with her society contacts, ensuring she still had a steady flow of information, generally continuing to do exactly the job she’d always done. She even had a suspect list of people who might have funding ties to Talon.

It was all interesting. And important. Jack was sure of that. Amélie was good at what she did; there was no way that had changed. He’d have to review all the information she was delivering them later, away from her, when he could actually focus on it.

The thing was, he was far too distracted by  _ her _ to give half a fuck about what she’d been  _ doing _ . She was gorgeous, and his eyes kept flicking between her lips, made up perfectly with luscious dark red lipstick that accentuated how full they were and had him thinking about how good they’d felt both against his own and wrapped around his cock, and her breasts, softer and larger with gained weight and looking utterly grabbable, and then it was right back up to her face, and while that was all he could see with the table in the way, the rest of her was implanted in his mind, and he kept mentally comparing her as she was  _ now  _ to how she’d been  _ then  _ and deciding that on every scale, Amélie Lacroix had aged like fine wine.

Honestly, how anyone expected him to get anything out of the meeting, he did not know.

He waited for her at the door once it was over, wearing a broad smile and standing with open arms.

“Amélie!” he greeted. She gave him a polite smile, and he reached a hand over to run down her arm. “You wouldn’t happen to be free later, would you? I’d love to….go over some of that intelligence. In private.” He gave her a broad wink, and she laughed, briefly.

“Ah, John,” she patted a hand against his cheek. “Never change.”

Then she swept by him, and Jack was left staring after her as she went.

 

* * *

Jack paced the rec area, glad that it was just him and Gabriel there, because he wasn’t sure he was particularly interested in damaging his Hardened Badass Soldier image in front of the kids as badly as hearing him pine after Amélie undoubtedly would. The last thing any of them needed to know was that he was still completely over the moon for a woman he’d had a torrid affair with back in his Strike-Commander days.

“She’s perfect,” Jack said. “She was perfect  _ before, _ but now she’s...god _ damn, _ how the hell does a woman like that even  _ exist?” _

“If that’s your type, I guess,” Gabriel said, giving Jack an amused half-grin from his seat on the couch. “Not mine, but...you know, all things considered, yeah, she really is right up your alley.”

“Look, Gabriel, I know your type runs more towards  _ cute _ ,” Jack waved a hand; he’d known about his best friend’s ongoing relationship with Mei-Ling Zhou, Overwatch’s head of climate research, for years, “but even you have to admit, Amélie looks  _ good.” _

“Never said she didn’t,” Gabriel replied. “Some things get better with age, I guess.” 

“She sure as hell did.” Jack sighed, heavily. “I want her back. I thought she wanted me too, the way she was looking at me, but when I hit on her she just….laughed me off!” He frowned. “It’s not that I’ve gotten old, is it? Do you think I’ve gotten too old for her?”

“She’s maybe five years younger than you, Jack, and I never got the  _ Mrs. Robinson  _ vibe from her,” Gabriel said sensibly. “Knowing you, it was probably the garbage come-on.”   


“She used to like my garbage come-ons,” Jack said a little despondently. “She thought they were charming.”

“That was when you were thirty-something, the hero of the Omnic Crisis, and the head of Overwatch.” Gabriel said. “And you actually had the stamina to go two or three rounds in a closet.”

“I can still do that,” Jack said, though he sounded unconvincing even to himself.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Gabriel replied. “Look, Mei and I are doing movie night, any chance you could…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack grumbled. “I’m out. Have fun.”

“Good luck seducing back your girlfriend,” Gabe said brightly, with cheer that rang almost mockingly false.

Jack sort of wanted to punch him.

 

* * *

 

Catching Amélie around the base wasn’t exactly difficult. Nobody was getting out much; Winston was being absurdly careful about who, what, and when they launched missions, because he was worried about UN interference. Privately, Jack was convinced that once they got in and out of Russia, where the resurgent Omnic problem was the worst, especially if they did it with a couple famous faces up front - Hana, Lena. and Lucio would do well, loathe as he was to send kids like them into front-line combat - the PETRAS Act would be out the window faster than Lena blinking across the battlefield.

Amélie, then, like most of their agents, was left idling with little to do but wait for the next potential assignment. Just seeing her was a form of terrible temptation - eve when she  _ wasn’t  _ actually at a society party, she dressed like she ought to be, and it was always a Herculean effort to not just….jump her in public.

He could be better than that. Not  _ much _ better, but  _ better.  _

Not that he had the patience for a proper wooing, either, really. Their relationship had never worked like that - it was always a quick fuck in a back room or over a desk or tucked into whatever private space they could find. Jack, if you asked him, was completely content with keeping it hat way.

Which was why he found it so  _ endlessly frustrating  _ that Amélie didn’t seem to be on board with the idea.

It felt like a dance where he’d forgotten half the steps - he’d move to chat her up, she’d brush him off when she usually would have flirted back. He teased, she ignored. 

So, fine. If that was how she wanted to play, he’d just have to up his game. He  _ would  _ have Amélie back in his bed. That was absolutely certain.

 

* * *

“You know, gorgeous,” Jack said, sliding up next to Amélie at the training range, “we could always test your accuracy against mine. Make a bet, maybe, for old time's sake?” He offered.

Amélie gave him a long, slow, deeply unimpressed look. 

“Your pulse rifle against  _ this?” _ She casually shifted her rifle into sniper configuration, shouldering it and, without really aiming, landing a perfect bullseye in a downrange target. “There is  _ no competition.”  _

Jack whistled, unashamed in his appreciation of her and of her skills. 

“I dunno, I’ve always been able to give you a pretty good run for your money,” Jack said. “Besides, it might be fun. We’ll just have to even the odds a little. Your assault rifle against mine, no sniping, no Helix rockets, first person to take down ten targets wins a kiss?”   


“Don't you think we might be a little  _ old  _ to make bets for kisses, John?” Amélie asked.

“Not at all,” Jack replied, grinning broadly. “Come on, Gorgeous, it’ll be  _ fun.  _ Unless you’re afraid to lose? _ ”  _ A little challenge had always worked well with her, and he could see it working this time. Her eyes narrowed, briefly, and she pursed those perfect, plush lips, and she finally spoke.

“ _ Gorgeous,”  _ Amélie scoffed, briefly. “Alright. We will see if your aim has decayed as badly as your hairline.” 

“Hey!” Jack reached up to smooth his hair, a little. “White hair makes me look distinguished.”

“As you like,” she said, and then she looked up. “Athena, a training simulation for us? Target shooting, aiming for a score of ten. But make the bots slow, I would not want to make things too difficult for our dear Strike-Commander.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jack growled, “I can keep up with whatever you’ve got.”

“Understood,” Athena said, “simulation beginning in 5...4...3….”

Jack tuned out the rest of it, breaking out as soon as Athena finished her countdown. He could hear the distant sounds of Amélie’s rifle, always in its assault configuration, and as he o sh took down a target, he could hear Athena call out the score; there was nothing like the rush of competition to get  _ everything  _ pumping, really.

Finally, he heard Athena call the final victory -  _ Jack Morrison, ten points -  _ and he grinned, waiting for the sim to fade. Amélie walked back to him across the range, giving him a long, slow once-over.

“Well,” she said, shouldering her gun, “I see I might have been too hasty in dismissing your abilities.”

“You did,” Jack said, and then he waggled his eyebrows. “Gonna pay up?”

“I never renege on a bargain, John.” She said.

She sauntered over, hips swaying, the type of walk that was designed to draw his eyes up and down her body, to make him think about how  _ goddamn good  _ her  _ everything  _ looked, the type of walk designed to  _ tease. _

She stopped in front of him, set her gun down, leaned in, and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. He groaned, leaning in and reaching around to squeeze her ass - exactly as perfect as he’d imagined, two wonderful handfuls. 

This was exactly what he’d been hoping for. She seemed interested, he was  _ definitely  _ interested, this was what both of them should have been doing all along. His hand snaked around to her thigh and began to travel up her skirt, and hat was when she pulled back, reaching down and pulling it away.

“Ah, no,” she said. “You won a  _ kiss,  _ mon soldat, that is all.”

She scooped up her rifle and left, and Jack had never really understood the concept of “blue-balling” before that moment, but he was absolutely feeling it right then.

 

* * *

He tried a much more direct approach, the next time. He caught her in the hallway, right near an armory closet, and started to tug her in.

“John,  _ what are you doing,” _ Amélie asked, as he tugged her through the door and shut it behind them.

“Getting you alone,” Jack aid, grinning broadly. “I’ve been wanting to have some time with you ever since you showed up, gorgeous, we’ve got a lot of lost time to catch up on.”

“Are you  _ joking?” _ Amélie asked, looking deeply affronted. “We are in our  _ fifties,  _ you absolutely ridiculous man; neither of us ought to be doing any kind of ridiculous closet hanky-panky at our age.”

“We’re not too old to have a good time,” Jack protested. They  _ weren’t;  _ what, the wondered, was her obsessive concern with propriety? They weren’t dead yet; as far as Jack was concerned that meant they were plenty young enough for just about any kind of shenanigans.

“Hot-blooded torrid affairs are all well and good when you are young,” Amélie said, “but we are not young anymore. Do not be ridiculous. I am not having sex with you in a closet.”

“It’ll be  _ fun,” _ Jack said, stepping into her space and slinging an arm around her waist. “Just like old times.” She’d never had any reservations back then, and there had been far smaller closets than this one back in the day.

“That is the problem,” Amélie said. “This is not  _ old times  _ anymore, and we are far beyond the age where it could be considered appropriate to do these things.”

“Fine,” Jack said, “then let me show you a different kind of good time.” If she was going to be stubborn, he could respond by getting creative. If overwhelming her with his sexuality didn’t work, the’d take an alternate route.

“I was not aware you  _ knew  _ of other kinds of good times,” Amélie said dryly. “You certainly did not back then, it would startle me to discover you had learned now.”

“Come on, Amélie,” Jack said, “one date. I promise, I’ll win you over.” Amélie regarded him with brief disdain, and then sighed, expression softening. That was when the knew he’d won and he was absolutely going to get her on that date.

“Alright.” She said. “One date. Impress me, John. Remind me why I was so fond of you in the first place.”

 

* * *

 

“Look, Angela,” Jack said, a broad grin on his face, “I’m not saying I  _ need it, _ but it’d be nice to have on hand.” 

They’d decided to stop by the medbay in preparation for his night out with Amélie -- because really, he was fairly confident any kind of medicinal assistance to his performance would be unnecessary, given everything else the SEP had given him. He was fairly certain it was the reason he wasn’t feeling his age as strongly as, say, Reinhardt, or Ana. Not that anyone worth their salt would underestimate the two highly capable field agents, even if they did now and then need the occasional bit of assistance. But it never hurt to have that kind of extra help on hand so he could be assured he was as prepared as possible. 

Once he finally got Amélie into bed with him - and he was almost certain this date would be the key to doing it - he wasn’t going to take any chances at  _ all _ . There was a reason he’d been such a highly successful Strike-Commander, and such a successful vigilante after, and that was because he considered every possible outcome before he went in. This was, in truth, no different; he just had to treat it like a mission with a much, much more  _ pleasurable  _ objective.

Angela let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“I assume you are aware of all the potential side effects?” She rubbed at her forehead, eyes closed, and it was clear that all of her professionalism was masking quit a lot of barely-contained irritation, the sort that Jack was starting to get very used to from just about everyone around him.

“Of course,” Jack said with a bit of a prideful puff of his chest. “I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

“Alright,” Angela sighed in barely concealed defeat and stood up, making her way briskly over to the far back, stark white cabinet where she kept a variety of on-hand medications. She produced a little orange bottle, about the size of her hand, and through the transparent walls of the container Jack could see the fabled “little blue pill.” With a brief moment of hesitation, she handed it to Jack, who tucked it into a jacket pocket. “Please just...practice safe sex, yes? Even at your age, there are risks.” Her delicate features scrunched up a bit as some of her professional demeanor slipped, her distaste at the matter clear.

“I will,” Jack said, and he gave her a broad wink, masculine ego preening that such concerns needed to still be raised. Angela sighed heavily and shooed him towards the door, looking a tad bit green around the gills. Obviously no matter her professionalism, this was not the sort of thing she was in any way excited to deal with.

If he was very lucky, he’d never need it - but if he was just lucky  _ enough,  _ well. It never hurt to be prepared. 

 

* * *

 

Jack’s choice of date location and date activity had seemed like an absolutely brilliant idea at the time he was making his plans. He'd weighed his options repeatedly, had gone and done his research and groundwork to ensure his information was accurate, and had only  _ somewhat _ had to fall back on just trusting his gut over facts. Jack was, quite frankly, pretty convinced it still  _ was  _ a brilliant idea. Amélie had shown up for their date dressed like they were going to a fancy restaurant, hair perfectly coiffed and waved, makeup done with all the seductive attention she always seemed to put into it, wearing an elegant figure-hugging navy blue dress, with tiny little straps and careful detailing at the bust that drew Jack’s eyes exactly where they ought to be, and black kitten heels - and that had made Jack laugh, which he had to quickly cover as a laugh of delight at her appearance to not risk offending her. But he’d refused to explain that her attire, though fitting her with undeniable perfection and every bit his fantasies come to life, was not… ah. Exactly befitting the evening. No, he couldn't say that. He still wanted it to be a surprise. 

Not that his own much more casual dress probably didn’t give it away - sure, he was wearing a button-up and dark slacks, but they weren’t particularly fancy, and he’d foregone a suit jacket and a tie, and all of that left him looking rather unlike he was going to a black-tie event, standing in stark contrast to what Amélie had chosen for the evening.

Besides, even if she  _ had  _ known, he was pretty sure she’d have chosen to dress that way as it is. She’d been sporting roughly the same preference of fashion ever since she arrived at the Watchpoint; no reason to assume a date would be any different, even if it was a less than traditional date location.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?” Amélie asked, as Jack gently held one of her delicate hands with one of his calloused own, his other hand at her lower back to help stable her as he helped her into the hovertruck. It was a dark red, a little rusted around the edges of the hubcaps and the doors, and it had been at the Watchpoint since before the Fall, but it was one of the very few working ground transport vehicles at Gibraltar. Most of them had been left to rot over the years, and while Torbjorn was eager to get them up and running again, it was the sort of thing that took time and wasn’t exactly a priority. They needed one or two for supply runs and the occasional trip into town; otherwise making sure the Orca was maintained so they could fly out to hotspots all over the world was much more important.

“I want it to be a surprise,” Jack said, with all the charm he could manage, making sure to flash her a pearly white, debonair smile. Amélie huffed, but settled in as he climbed in the other side and started driving. “It’s not too far.” He’d been surprised to discover it  _ wasn’t;  _ he’d always thought of this particular form of entertainment as a distinctly Américan phenomenon. It was utterly delightful to know it wasn’t an entire world away.

They spent the ride chatting casually, catching up on what they’d been doing since the PETRAS Act. Amélie had, apparently, taken up as something of a thief-for-hire for a time with a group of former criminals she had picked up as acquaintances back when she was working for Blackwatch, running a sort of Robin Hood operation in France and some of the surrounding countries. She would use all her connections and glamor to get the in the door and get the con rolling, and then she’d disappear like mist when things started getting bad for whatever poor rich son of a bitch they’d chosen as a mark. It was pretty impressive, actually - not too far off from his own vigilante work, if in a different sphere.

She seemed to enjoy some of his wilder stories chasing down gangs and breaking into old Overwatch facilities back in the US and Mexico, laughing and shaking her head and saying that it all sounded  _ so much  _ like him, to still be playing the hero even after he was forced to do it solo. However,the longer he drove, especially when he drove past several of Gibraltar’s nicer restaurants along the main road, the more she regarded him with suspicion. They moved to and through the center of town, and out into the outskirts, and while the area was still clearly fairly upscale, houses and buildings began to be further and further apart. 

Amélie’s expression became particularly skeptical when they pulled up to a large stadium, ovular and open-roofed, the kind built for loud, exciting, live sporting events. Jack helped her out of the truck and through the doors, and Amélie frowned the entire way, looking deeply skeptical.

Her expression became _even more_ bitterly mistrustful when she caught sight of the arena itself, inside, once he got them to the seating area, and she seemed to begin to realize what, exactly, was going on - or to at least have some suspicions. Clearly, the kind of date he had in mind was absolutely not the kind of date _she_ had in mind. 

“John Morrison,” Amélie said with a tight voice, “ _ what is this?”  _ She crossed her arms and gave him a long, venomous glare, and Jack responded with a grin.

“You’ll see,” Jack said, almost giddy. “Come on, Amé, let’s at least sit down. Give it a chance. Give  _ me  _ a chance.” Amélie regarded him with a long, very unpleased look, and then huffed.

“ _ Fine.  _ But this had best be worth my time. I agreed to  _ one date,  _ there were no promises of further, and if you fail spectacularly to impress me, I can promise there will be no more.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jack said, guiding her to their seats; she went, if obviously reluctantly, and eyed the stadium chair with disdain for a moment before sitting down. “You’ll definitely be impressed.” Or at least, so he was banking on.

When the first truck rolled out, Amélie made an utterly scandalized noise, pressing further back into her seat. Jack doubted she’d ever even  _ thought  _ about going to something like this, before.

Jack suspected this arena was for bullfighting, usually, with real or omnic bulls, because they used the same kind of dirt arena floor that was necessary for a monster truck rally, which was exactly what he had decided was an appropriate date to take Amélie Lacroix on. She was far too concerned with the finer things - it was nice, when it came to her appearance, because she always looked  _ damn good,  _ but it was less nice when it came to things like relaxing and having a little fun.

Amélie Lacroix, in Jack’s opinion, needed a damned lot more fun in her life than she was having.

He was pretty pleased with himself, honestly.

Amélie seemed...very, very much less so.

“I cannot  _ believe  _ you,” she said, shoving his shoulder. “We are  _ adults,  _ a date should be a  _ nice dinner,  _ not a...a…”

“Monster truck rally?” Jack asked, still grinning. Amélie’s expression turned distinctly distasteful.

“Yes,” she said, “ _ that.” _

“Come on, gorgeous, live a little. Have some  _ fun,”  _ he teased lightly. Amélie huffed, and sat back in her chair, and didn’t say anything else for a while. Jack, however, was all too glad to whoop and cheer in his enthusiasm, and as he shot glances over Amélie’s way, he watched her scooting forward more and more in her seat, getting more and more invested in what was going on. She seemed, over time, to become delightedly excited, and Jack tried to pretend the grin on his face was because he was enjoying what was going on in the arena and not blatant self-satisfaction that she seemed to be enjoying this in spite of herself.

He made sure to get them food - a corn dog for him, a classic hot dog for her, which she examined with derision but ate anyway, and actually seemed to enjoy. 

There was a kiss cam, because of course there was - a big, loud sporting event wasn't complete without it. There were a couple good ones, too, though Amélie always looked a little disgusted every time. Every time there was a couple even  _ close  _ to their age, Jack would waggle his eyebrows and nudge her, and that only seemed to make the abject disgust worse. It was entertaining to watch the various reactions - sometimes a chaste kiss on the cheek or a brief touch of lips, sometimes abject denial, sometimes actual enthusiastic kissing. The crowd’s responses varied - boos for the little chaste things, but often cheers or laughter for either denials or enthusiasm. It was a hell of a thing to watch, especially when people who were obviously not together got really into it with crowd feedback.

When it swung around to them, Jack knew exactly what he wanted it to be. He set aside his corn dog and reached out, gripping Amélie’s chin and leaning in to kiss her, aware of how wide her eyes were, and ignoring how her expression was rapidly changing from shock to fury. He wasn’t shy about the kiss either - it was hard and long and passionate, and she groaned against his lips and leaned into the kiss in turn, grabbing tightly onto his shirt to keep him in place.

They were both a little breathless when they broke apart, and Jack could hear people cheering around them, which encouraged him to lean in for another. Amélie allowed it, but when they broke after the camera had swung away, she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Pull another stunt like that, John, and you will regret it.”

Jack grinned at her, broad and confident.

“Promise, gorgeous?” He teased. “I’m not usually into punishment, but I’m pretty sure you could get me into anything.”

Amélie’s cheeks colored, and she made a brief grumbling noise, shoving against his shoulder again.

“You are  _ ridiculous,”  _ she said, settling back in her seat.

The kiss cam wasn’t turned on them again for the duration of the night, but it  _ did  _ catch another pair of Overwatch agents, something that had Amélie choking a bit on her soda she'd been sipping, and had Jack's eyebrows nearly up among his hairline. It was clear enough they’d ended up sitting together rather than being there on a date, but it was still hilarious to watch Genji Shimada lean over for a kiss, only to find that Satya Vaswani had insistently thrown up a photon barrier between them.

It seemed harsh, if you asked Jack, but Shimada was persistent. He’d get the girl eventually.

 

* * *

All in all, Jack was pretty sure that had been a successful date. He’d gotten them off-base, they’d had a little fun (and a little “fun”, even if not as much as he’d wanted) and even if she hadn’t immediately flung herself into his arms and pleaded with him to take her right there when they got back, he was confident that it had been a near thing, and soon enough she would be draping herself all over him and they’d be back to how things were  _ supposed  _ to be, where they playfully chased each other as much as he wanted to.

He’d just have to talk her around to  _ get  _ her there. It might take a while, but it’d all be worth it in the end. 

So it was back to going out of his way to find time to be around her. That wasn’t hard; he was very dedicated to it, and she certainly wasn’t avoiding him.

Just….she still wasn’t responding the way he  _ expected.  _ The way he  _ wanted her to. _

She was responding with more teasing, some of it absolutely  _ vicious,  _ and it was... _ hell. _

If he was being honest, it was a little bit hot, but still not what he wanted.

Still, he was going to have her, one way or another. The chase would just be a little longer this way, that was all. He’d find a way to make it happen. 

 

* * *

 

They ran into each other - well, “ran into” wasn’t the right phrasing, really, not when Jack had specifically asked Athena where Amélie was so he could find her for a chat - at the practice range again, and this time Jack didn't intend to bother with any silly bets. 

He slid up behind Amélie when she set down her gun - he wasn’t  _ stupid,  _ and surprising her when she was armed seemed like a pretty terrible idea - and pulled her back against him with an arm around her waist.

“Hello, Gorgeous,” he purred, directly into her ear. Amélie tensed, briefly, and then relaxed when she realized it was him.

“Hello, John,” she said, sounding playfully exasperated. “Do you have a suggestion for another bet?”

“Not today,” he said, “I thought we’d just…skip to the good parts.”

“Tell me,” Amélie said, “does that presume  _ you  _ winning or  _ me?” _

“Me, I’m sure,” Jack said confidently. Amélie laughed and twisted out of his grip.

“That feels like a dangerous presumption, just because you won our last little game,” Amélie said, a Cheshire smile on her face. “I know you are very confident in your abilities, but I promise, I am just as good as you.” 

“I know you are,” Jack said, “but I think things are more fun if we pretend I won.” He moved towards her, pulling her back in, and she draped her arms around his shoulders, regarding him almost boredly.

“Is that so?” She asked. “Because I  _ do  _ wonder. You  _ are  _ getting up in years, and things  _ do  _ happen to men as they get older…”

“Not to me,” Jack protested, firmly. He was a  _ supersoldier -  _ no matter that he had gone out of his way to be one hundred percent certain there would be no issue, there was no way here could even potentially be a problem.

“Ah, really?” Amélie asked. “So no need for me to….check in with Angela about Viagra, then? She raised her eyebrows, a broad grin on her face. It seemed so knowing that Jack wondered, for a minute, if she actually  _ knew  _ he’d stopped in - but there was no way, neither Athena nor Angela would have mentioned it, and he’d made sure to do it when there were as few people as possible around. She was just teasing him, the way she had been. 

“No need,” Jack said. “I’d be happy to prove it to you, too,” he pressed a little further against her, and she laughed brightly.

“Perhaps another time, John,” she said, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek before dancing away from him again. “I have  _ so much  _ to do today, I simply couldn’t.” She gave him a wink. “Though perhaps if you are quick about it…”

“Oh, believe me,” Jack said, “you’d need to clear your schedule for me.” Amélie shook her head.

“I will believe it when you prove it to me,” she said lightly, and then she scooped her gun back up. “Now, are you here to shoot, or no?”

“Maybe later,” Jack grumbled. The rejection stung, even if it was just what she’d been doing all along. 

He’d have to try another time, another way. He  _ would  _ have her. It was just a matter of time and approach.

 

* * *

That continued to be the tone of things - Jack would reach, Amélie would dance for a while, but she’d twist away right before they could really make any progress, until it was, finally, Valentine’s Day itself, the day Jack had very much wanted to ensure he had a hot date for, and Jack had still, to his disappointment, not actually managed to get Amélie in bed with him.

He’d thought it would be easy, really her had. They’d come together so quickly and so hotly back when they were younger that her reluctance now felt silly, like she was denying something that was, ultimately, inevitable. Besides, she seemed to genuinely enjoy the dance, so it was an unsolvable puzzle, if you asked Jack, why she refused to just go for it. It would be fun for both of them, so why delay it? 

He intended to ask her directly, frankly, because he was tired of dancing around it. The game was fun and all, until it stopped being fun and started being tedious, and it was beginning to hit the point where it was  _ tedious.  _ They were avoiding the inevitable - well, Amélie was. Jack was ready to go, and he wanted to catch her up, too.

He practically marched into the rec area, and there, as expected, was Amélie, looking as ridiculously gorgeous as ever. He actually had to pause for a moment, just to take her in, because there was nothing about that woman that was anything less than absolutely, completely perfect.

If it weren’t for the fact that they weren’t alone, or even  _ close to  _ alone, he would have seriously considered shutting the doors and fucking her on the couch she was so casually reclined on, reading a book . In fact, even with people around, it didn’t feel like the  _ worst  _ idea he’d ever had -- but she wouldn’t go for it, there was no way. 

So, other methods. 

He sauntered over to the couch and leaned against it.

“So, Amélie,” he said, doing his absolute best to utterly  _ ooze  _ confidence and masculinity, “it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“I am aware,” she said, tone utterly bland and bored. “We do in fact celebrate it in France as well.” She didn’t even look up from her book, instead turning a page and settling more comfortably onto the couch. That was...that was almost insulting, really, and part of Jack wanted to pluck the book out of her hands and  _ demand  _ her attention, but that wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“You have any plans?” He asked, instead. “Doing anyone later?”

He was, frankly, pretty proud of that little come-on.

“Not this shit again,” he heard Gabriel grumble from one of the other couches where he was sharing a box of chocolates with Mei, sounding deeply frustrated. 

Jack very staunchly ignored it. He’d tolerated Gabriel and Mei being disgustingly cute around each other far too often over the years; Gabriel could suck it up and deal with this.

“Well,” Amélie said, still not giving him as much attention as he wanted, though he could see a slight hint of pink on her cheeks, which meant his little come-on had at last had  _ some  _ effect, “that rather depends on if I can  _ find  _ someone.”

“Come on, Amé, don’t be coy,” Jack said, leaning in a little closer, “you know I’m right here waiting for you any time you want some. I’ve got condoms and some real nice his-and-hers lubricant back in my room.”

“The fact that you think we would need that disturbs and rather offends me, Jack,” Amélie said, at the same time he heard Gabriel make a very over-exaggerated choking noise. He heard Mei let out a tiny startled gasp, like she was absolutely stunned he’d be this blatant in public. 

“Just trying to be considerate, gorgeous,” Jack said, shrugging it all off. Amélie huffed.

“I am sorry, John,” Amélie said dryly, “but I am just not sure you could….what is the phrase, exactly?  _ Keep up with m _ e.” 

“You know damned well I can,” Jack said, voice a low baritone growl. Amélie laughed, shaking her head. 

“Perhaps when we were younger, but things happen to men as they age,  _ non?”   _ She said lightly, though she finally looked up from her book, marking her page and then setting it down, to cast him a sidelong glance. “You make all these insinuations, but I am not certain you can follow through.” Her eyes flicked up and down, and landed on his crotch. “And even if you could, does it not...shrink with age,  _ Tiny? _ ”

Jack growled and pushed off the couch, drawing up to his full height.

“I’ll show you  _ tiny,” _ he said, and then he slung an arm around he waist and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying he off with a fierce determination. From behind them, he heard Gabriel practically shout “fucking  _ finally,”  _ and the sound of Mei yelping and smacking her hands against his chest. 

Amélie let out a delighted-sounding laugh, letting him sweep her off into his room. Apparently, he’d needed to take the forceful, direct approach all along, because finally, there were some goddamn results. 

Jack tossed her onto the bed, giving her a long look, appreciating how she looked splayed out, in her black strapless minidress and her dark stockings and her elegant heeled sandals.

“Do you want to do this or not?” He asked. Amélie hummed for a brief moment, letting her eyes tril him up and down, in a rather blatantly appreciative way.

“Of course I do, John.” She stood up and strode over to him, drawing him into a long kiss, arms draping around his shoulders as his moved to rest at her hips. “I’ve always been fond of you, God only knows why. And I suppose I do owe you a Valentine’s present.”

“Well, hell,” Jack said. “That sounds good to me.” He paused for a moment and considered. “...Any chance I could get you into that old catsuit of yours? I always did like peeling it off you.” He gave her an absolutely lecherous grin.

“John!” Amélie said, scandalized. “Absolutely not! I cannot believe you would even  _ ask -  _ I do not even  _ own  _ that ridiculous thing any longer!”

“I bet you’d look just as good in it as you did twenty years ago,” Jack insisted, giving her a sly grin.

“Do you want to do this, or no,” Amélie asked, though it really was not framed as a question.

“...I want to do this,” Jack said, as rapidly as the Cheshire smile was flicked from his face, lest she get even the vaguest idea that he was anything but very,  _ very  _ interested.

“Then you will not ask such things of me.” Amélie informed him. 

“Alright, alright, no catsuit.” He agreed, a little grudgingly. He took a moment to consider other options, though, because surely he could get  _ something  _ fun and spicy out of this, besides getting to pound her into the mattress. “What about a strip show?” He asked, hopefully, waggling his eyebrows.

“ _ John.” _ Amélie said, sounding terribly frustrated, hands resting on her hips. 

“It’ll be fun!” Jack said. “It’ll make us feel young again, and, hell, if you’re worried about how you’ll look, I promise, you’ve got nothing to be concerned about.” He let himself check her out as blatantly and obviously as possible, hoping that would work to put her at ease. It was so easy to appreciate her, too - she was goddamn perfect at any age, apparently. Exactly the kind of woman he’d always dreamed of having.

“You are nearly  _ sixty,  _ John,” Amélie said disdainfully. “This...frat boy behavior is beneath you.”

“Is it really,” Jack asked, though he didn’t frame it as much of a question. “You just make me feel so much younger. Now come on, gorgeous, give me a show, you know it’ll be fun.” 

Amélie sighed heavily, shaking her head. 

“The things I do for you,” she muttered under her breath, but she started by unstrapping her sandals. She somehow managed to make even  _ taking her shoes off  _ look hot, with how she let the straps graze her skin, her fingers dancing along the edges of the material before she slid her feet out of the sandals one by one. Her expression became blatantly seductive as she slowly, teasingly, unzipped her dress down the back, and she locked her eyes with his the entire time, swaying her hips a little like the beginning of a stripper’s dance. She let it slide off and fall to the ground, revealing elegant black lingerie.

Jack stared with wide eyes, drinking in the lacy strapless bra, with its floral patterns laid over a sheer material that gave just enough peeks at the skin underneath to be terribly, almost painfully tempting, especially gorgeous against her pale skin, and let his eyes trail down to the garter belt at her waist, the slinky, almost sheer panties, the elegant thigh-high stockings. They were all perfectly matched together, clearly a set, and they looked so good on her it was almost enough to make Jack drool.

“You sure you weren’t  _ planning _ on getting laid tonight?” Jack asked, his voice thick and rough. It seemed like she was, with that kind of thing on under her dress.

“A lady should always be prepared,” Amélie replied, and he wanted to ask her about that, to demand to know if she was _always_ wearing that kind of thing--and if she'd been anticipating him being the one to see it, or someone else. But she distracted him by moving further with her strip routine and really, he quickly surmised, it wasn’t _that_ important, he’d just figure it out if he always found her in nice lingerie. She gave a little twirl and a seductive hip-sway, moving closer to him as she undid the garter belt and slowly wiggled out of it, making as much of a production of taking it off as she could. 

That was, really, exactly what he’d wanted, so Jack absolutely wasn’t complaining, even if his pants were starting to become a little uncomfortable and he was also very, very interested in getting on with it. 

The bra went next, undone slowly and with much flair, and she moved close enough to drop it right next to him, letting it fall on the bed. She stepped back, then, rolling her hips sensuously and giving him an excellent view of how much she’d changed over the years - and how much she  _ hadn’t. _

Sure, her figure had softened, but it was in all the best ways - her hips were fuller, her ass rounder, her breasts bigger. She was a perfect hourglass, now, and Jack absolutely loved it. He’d had an idea of how good she looked from all the staring he’d done at her while she was fully dressed, but there was something  _ else  _ about seeing her almost completely naked and gorgeous, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes hooded, a seductive smile on her face. No matter how good she looked dressed, she’d never quite be able to beat how good she looked  _ naked. _

She took her panties off last, swaying as she did and slowly sauntering right back to him, and when she was right in front of him she turned around, givin him a perfect, up close view of her beautiful bare ass. When she stepped out of them, she dropped them directly in his lap, right over the very obvious bulge in his uncomfortably tight pants.

“How was  _ that,  _ John?” She asked, voice low and sultry, still turned away from him. “Everything you’d hoped for?” She turned around, finally, regarding him with a long, scorching stare.

“And more,” Jack replied, reaching out to slide an arm around her waist and yank her into his lap. He went eagerly, legs on either side of his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders, and he drew her into a fierce kiss, hard and passionate, while his hands wandered over her bare form. He traced her hips, grabbed two firm handfuls of her ass, moved up her sides to squeeze her breasts - he enjoyed getting to feel every glorious bit of her, and her moans and gasps of delight made it clear that she was enjoying it just as much as he was.

He finally let her go when he absolutely  _ had  _ to breathe, and he took in her flushed face and wide, dark eyes, and he grinned.

“Why don’t you get out of all those clothes? I think you’re terribly overdressed,” Amélie said, once she had caught her breath. As she spoke, she slid out of his lap and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into a standing position with her. Jack nodded along, too distracted by how good she looked to bother with words, and began to strip, much less elegantly than she had. Amélie sighed, sliding around him to recline on the bed, and his eyes followed her until he had to turn around. 

The entire time he was undressing, he held her gaze, taking in her increasingly pleased reactions as more and more of him wa revealed. He watched her eyes move to his cock once it was freed, and a broad smile spread across her face.

“Well,” she said, sounding utterly delighted, “I see my concerns about  _ size  _ were….unfounded.” He’d never seen her look more happy to be wrong.

“You’re damn right,” Jack said, and he climbed into the bed with her, leaning down to kiss her again. She sighed happily and arched into it, but it was brief, this time, because he was getting antsy. “You want that lube, and a condom?”

“I think,” Amélie said, taking one of his hands and moving it between her legs, “you will find we really do not need either.”

They certainly wouldn’t need  _ lube,  _ he could tell from the moment he dipped his fingers between her folds _ \-  _ she was soaking wet, hot and ready for him, and when he slid two fingers into her she arched her back and moaned. 

“Do not  _ tease,”  _ she said, “get  _ on  _ with it.”

Jack was never one to tell a lady no, especially not after such a long game getting there.

He slung her legs up around his hips and slid into her in one easy motion, groaning as her hot core welcomed him. It didn’t feel like he remembered - it felt  _ better,  _ if that was even possible.

Apparently  _ everything  _ got better with age. Or at least, everything with Amélie certainly did.

He began to thrust, setting an even rhythm at first, until Amélie growled  _ “faster,” _ an obvious and blatant encouragement.

“You like that?” Jack asked, speeding up, which drew a long, low moan out of her.

“Mmm, yes, very much,” Amélie purred, raking her perfect manicured nails up his back. It sent a shiver up his spine, a thrilling sensation that just encouraged him to fuck into her harder.

“Good,” Jack growled, making his thrusts harder as well as faster. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this since you showed back up here. I’m gonna  _ wreck you,  _ just the way I used to.”

“ _ S'il vous plaît,”  _ Amélie groaned, bucking her hips into him and arching her back. It was like all the best of everything they used to have - they came together hot and eager and  _ easy,  _ all desperate moans and long cries and needy pleading, and it was exactly what Jack had always known he wanted and what he had never quite been able to find with anyone but Amélie Lacroix.

Amélie was the absolute perfect compliment to his every desire; even now, years after they’d last fucked, she met him as eagerly as if it had been yesterday. They were so damn good together, it seemed ridiculous that they’d ever been doing anything  _ but  _ this.

“Oh,  _ Jack,”  _ she gasped, and hearing the nickname was so much more intimate than every  _ John,  _ especially when it came punctuated with little breathy moans. He pounded into her faster, and she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper into her. 

“For all your teasing,” Jack said, voice dark, “you wanted this, didn’t you? All along, you were just waiting for me to get tired of dancing around and take you.” 

“Yes,” Amélie said. “I --  _ oh, Jack, yes! _ ” She let out an absolutely beautiful little cry of desperate need, the type of sound Jack knew signalled she was close.

“Going to come?” He asked, moving a hand between them to tease at her clit. 

“ _ Oui,”  _ Amélie gasped, “I’m so close, Jack, more,  _ s'il vous plaît,”  _ she pleaded desperately. He picked up his pace, relentlessly slamming into her, and his fingers stroked her clit to encourage her further and faster. Her moans rose in pitch and volume until finally she was screaming out her orgasm, and he kept fucking her through it until she was a trembling wreck and he was spilling hot and sticky inside her. 

He slid out after a long moment of catching his breath, and lay down on the bed next to her, drinking in the sight of her. Even sex-wrecked, flushed and breathing hard she was the most beautiful woman Jack had ever seen in his life.

“God damn,” Jack said. “I’m never fucking a younger woman again.”

 

* * *

They relaxed for a while after that, basking in the afterglow and in each others' company, trading little kisses and teasing touches without the need for it to be anything more. 

“So,” Jack said, “do you want to do dinner, tonight?” Jack asked, and Amélie sighed, but it was a fond sort of sigh rather than an exasperated one.

“Is it not traditional to take the lady to dinner  _ first,  _ and  _ then  _ take her to bed?” She asked.

“Since when have we worried about what’s  _ traditional?”  _ Jack asked, and Amélie hummed brief assent.

“Alright, dinner. But perhaps we should do that  _ tomorrow  _ night - I would hate to have to compete for a table tonight.”

“Dinner here, tonight, then,” Jack said, “and I’ll take you out somewhere fancy tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Amélie said, leaning in to kiss him briefly.

There was a knock on the door, but it was the kind of knock that was, at best, perfunctory, and Jack knew it. He grabbed the covers and threw them over him and Amélie, just in time, because the door opened and there was Hana Song, not looking up from her handheld game system at first.

“Yo, Dad, dinner’s happening in the mess and you weren’t there, so I figured I’d come down and --” She finally looked up, and it seemed to take her a minute to realize exactly what was going on, and then she turned around, shut the door behind her, and there was a muffled screeching from the other side. 

Jack couldn’t help it. He started laughing, and fairly quickly, so did Amélie. 

“I am  _ never  _ going to be able to unsee this!” Hana screeched, and that just made both of them laugh harder. “Oh, my god, old people sex, I need brain bleach, I need to ask Angela if she knows how to surgically extract memories,  _ augh.” _

“Knock next time!” Amélie called, and Hana let out a little offended screech.

“ _ Lock the damn door, next time!” _

Jack, though, was mostly focused on the  _ next time.  _ There would be a  _ next time.  _ Not that he’d ever imagined there wouldn’t be, not with how much Amélie had blatantly enjoyed herself, but it was good to know that there was absolutely no question of it. Amélie Lacroix was right back in his bed - which was, in his opinion, exactly where she belonged.

 

* * *

Being back at the kind of upper-crust society parties that his Strike-Commander status used to almost  _ demand _ he attended was, for Jack, a good sign that Overwatch was right back in the position it was supposed to be in. It had taken them a year, but here they were, right back at the top where they belonged. 

And Jack was intent on enjoying it as much as possible. Sure, getting sloppy drunk at a fancy event wasn’t exactly the best image to present, but a) he wasn’t  _ sloppy  _ drunk, just  _ kind of  _ drunk, and b) with the amount of alcohol it took to overcome his super soldier metabolism, he was pretty sure he deserve the buzz. 

And besides, Amélie looked  _ great,  _ and he was going to let her know.

He sauntered over to her, casually leaning into her space.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, grinning broadly. “Come here often?” 

“ _ John,” _ Amélie sighed, though it was a fond sort of sigh. He was getting pretty used to that kind of reaction from her, and frankly he was well and aware that it was a form of encouragement.

“It’s an honest question!” He gave he a broad wink, and she gently nudged his side with her elbow. 

“You know very well exactly how often I come here,” she said.

“Do I?” Jack asked. “Because I’d really like to be sure I got to know you as well as possible.”

He could feel eyes on them - no way there wouldn’t be, when they were at a party like this - and if he was a little more sober, maybe he would have cared, but he wasn’t, and so he most certainly didn’t. 

“I suppose we could arrange for that,” Amélie teased lightly, and Jack grinned.

“That sounds absolutely wonderful to me, gorgeous.” He said. “You sure your friends won’t miss you?” He made a show of looking around, like there were other girls she might be with, even if he knew there wasn’t anyone in particular and this  _ certainly  _ wasn’t some seedy bar where that might be an issue.

“Oh, John,” Amélie said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “You are a ridiculous, ridiculous man.” She took a sip of her wine, and Jack grinned, a little giddily.

“Yeah, but I’m  _ your  _ ridiculous man, aren’t I?” And wasn't that the best part? He’d had a year of being back together with Amélie - a really, really  _ good  _ year, too, if you asked him.

“You are,” Amélie said, reaching up to pat his cheek. He leaned in to kiss her properly on the lips, and she demurred briefly.

“John, we are being  _ watched, _ ” she said, though she didn’t sound all that concerned, not really.

“Let ‘em look, we’re the best looking couple here,” Jack said, and he leaned in, and this time, with a little laugh, she met him halfway and they shared a long, sweet kiss. 

A little ways away, Hana giggled as she snapped a photo on her phone, uploading it captioned “dad’s been drunk-hitting on mom at this party, they’ve been together for like 20 years #goals.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on tumblr at [noirsongbird!](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com)


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